Night Chase
by Festive
Summary: Johnny muses silently to himself the reason why he made the choices that put him where he is today. Chased by demons and in turn, chasing what is most important to him...


Disclaimer: I do not own Vassalord, Just the arrangement of the words!

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The night is void of stars, I sit alone underneath them and wonder not for the first time why I made the choice that put me where I am; cold, alone and sitting under a giant enigma that doesn't begin to make sense even as another century sets upon it.

I wring my hands together, feeling the chill steel of my rings rub against the remaining warmth in my fingers, and find it easy to ignore the cold; it won't kill me so why bother trying to stop its slow ascent?

A rushing blast of air against my skin tramples in from the North. That may have something to do with my strategic seat on top one of the many towering, metropolitan sky scrapers that make up the down town core of Los Angeles .

'City of Angels'

I couldn't help the ironic chuckle that barked out after that thought.

I certainly shouldn't be calling this place my stomping grounds, but then again it wasn't really 'mine' was it.

It was 'his'.

And didn't that name suit him like a glove, his soul was as lily white as any angel's and I didn't have to be on the opposite end of the spectrum to know that.

Another gust buffeted against me, whipping my hair up in tendrils and making me sigh with a contentment to know that some things never change.

The sky was like velvet tonight, rather than wool. Smooth and perfect but marred by the smog of another city that took it for granted.

But it wasn't like Night cared what people did under her skirts; she gave her favours to any one and everything.

I tipped my smouldering cigarette to her; beautiful, mysterious and always my willing lover, before taking a long drag that illuminated a small perimeter around my face with a false, cheery orange glow.

He would be here soon.

I stood, my legs feeling numb and bloodless, something I had come to accept as one of the many thrills of being a living relic of eras gone by, being 'dead' to put it in less poetic and fancified words.

"And here comes another one of those little thrills." My voice sounded dull.

I scuffed my expensive boot soles against the edge of the tower, peeking over with a lunatic grin that only spread as I saw the angry red and yellows that screamed at me from the streets below.

I bent my leg against the side of the building and propelled myself into the night air.

I hung suspended as everything around me slowed down, the black reflective glass mirrored me back at myself and sounds elongated into the crescendo of the night's symphony.

And then that unnatural force hefted me up into the air with swan-like grace and everything caught up with me and I was not surrounded by music anymore, I was drowning in the furious noise of downtown night life.

I had to move, I felt flighty and anxious without my music and I knew he would be here soon. I knew he would find me and when he did...

Anyways, I had to keep mobile.

The air around me was thin and I couldn't enjoy it for what it was, clear and crisp and laced with the bitter sweet decay of a rotting city.

But that was typical of cities wasn't it? There was always something dead, something ugly and massive and wretched and always, always 'there' that made the entirety of it smell like demons and ozone.

I missed smelling sunlight.

The closest I ever got to feeling it on my face, tasting it on my tongue, being wrapped in its womb of protection was when 'he' looked at me, scolded me, loved me unconditionally.

It made me feel more unclean than I had since I first made this pact for wanting to take more from him.

When I stopped for a moment from wallowing in my self-deprivation; I noticed I had reached a district surrounded by quiet public parks lit at even intervals by tall lamp posts; the odd couple walked hand in hand and huddled close against the damp chill and a stray cat or two moonlighted across empty streets.

"Why am I here?" I thought dismally, but I already knew the answer to that.

"Chris..." the name was like a beautiful ray of early morning sunlight streaking across an undiscovered, misty lake; like a hug from someone you hadn't seen in years, it was like being alive again.

I knew why I was here.

Discreetly, like I was about to do something wrong, I turned in the direction of a largish apartment complex surrounded by neat hedges and dutiful street lights.

Ascending its exterior I rhythmically counted the balconies until I reached the second highest that had a small potted plant, well maintained, sitting isolated in the corner.

I stepped onto it more or less noiselessly and leant my forehead against the sliding glass door and smiled.

There was Cherry, right where I knew he'd be.

His computer was on his lap, screen saver long since turned black; his body was slumped to the left and his glasses were almost falling off the bridge of his nose.

He looked so tired and even in sleep there was a pinch in his brow like he was worried about something that he couldn't fix.

I smiled a smile of the guilty whom is not as repentant as they should be, and I continued to watch him shamelessly.

He muttered in his sleep, 'Master,' and 'No,' and 'Don't leave... me... alone' I pressed my hands against the glass, the urge to go in there and see him, snuggle up with him and reassure him like I always had that I was here and I wasn't going anywhere and just... just sleep was so irresistible that I reached for the handle.

But I felt the black chill creep down my spine a second too late, and I heard the seductive purr roll across the right side of my body like a death toll, saw the brilliantly white blonde braid like snake whipped up by the wind out of my peripheral vision.

"Found you."

Then it all went black and red.


End file.
